Covered In Snow
by MunkenKirkland
Summary: England watches as the snow covers his country, waiting for his American boyfriend to return home. Little does he know that there is something that will change everything. Forever. USUK.


Summary: England watches as the snow covers his country, waiting for his American boyfriend to return home. Little does he know that there is something that will change everything. Forever. USUK.

Covered in snow

England picked up his phone, a slight smile curling his lips as he dialled America's number. While the signals beeped in his ear he tapped his fingers against his knee, the call soon being directed to America's voicemail. He was not surprised; America never answered his calls anymore.

"Alfred, love? I just called to tell you that it is snowing in England..." His smile grew wider when he looked out the window, big white flakes silently dropping down from the sky. "I know you love it when it snows here... So I thought I would tell you. Goodbye. "With that as his last words he put the phone away, standing up to take care of today's chores. Occasionally he would stop to look out one of the big windows so he could admire the sight, feeling his entire body being caressed by the cold snow falling over his country. It was a beautiful December, and it would stay that way.

When all was taken care of he sat down with a warm cup of tea in his hands, glancing at the picture of America and him he had on the table. It was a lovely picture; they were both smiling for once and England had a faint blush on his pale cheeks. If he thought hard enough he could even remember when they had it taken.

Flashback:

"Iggy! Iggy, get over here! Japan wants a pic of us SNUGGLING in a gay way! Hahaha!" The Brit turned to his boyfriend, scowling. "America, for heaven's sake! Can you not see that you are embarrassing poor Kiku? Not to mention yourself!"

As if the boisterous American would care. He only grinned wider, tugging England down in his lap. "Come on. Smile for 'im." Japan blushed, stuttering an apology which England waved away, seeing the camera in the Japanese man's hands.

"It is fine, Kiku. There is no stopping Alfred when he is high on sugar - I suspect he drank more than one coke this morning."

America scoffed at the accusation, hugging England tighter. "No I didn't! Well, yes... But it was only because you kept me busy all -"

"NOT A WORD!"

"Hahahaha~"

Japan smiled at their bantering, momentarily forgetting the photo he was supposed to take. They had only been a couple for a year, and so far it had been going well. Today was a perfect day of being out on a date, the wind was warm and the calming sounds of waves hitting the shore made a nice background to the image. For some reason though, America had insisted on Japan tagging along; something he was not really comfortable with as he often felt like the third wheel. Surprisingly enough he did not feel that way today, mostly thanks to England he suspected. The British man knew him well, and was too polite to run off kissing America until the younger could barely talk - Japan had seen it happen before.

"OI! Kiku! The pic!" America's voice broke him out of his thoughts and he turned back towards them.

"Hai."

Just as Japan raised his beloved camera America leaned in and whispered something in England's ear; something that made the blonde blush and smile softly, which, in turn, made the American grin smugly. The moment was too good to pass up on, so he snapped two quick pictures, bowing to America when he was done.

"Thank you for being so patient, Alfred-kun."

"No need to get all formal, dude. It's just a pic. And I got to make Iggy blush~"

"Shut up! Git!"

"Old man."

"Insolent brat."

"Prude Brit."

"PARDON?"

"Sorry, sorry. Kinky, perverted Brit with a delusional brain."

"AMERICA!" Shrieked England, with an impressive slap knocking his boyfriend out. Not that he actually was offended; it was just part of their relation. America was supposed to tease him, and England was supposed to answer with either insults or physical violence.

Japan secretly hoped they would stay together a long, long time.

-End Flash back

Another day had passed, and England slipped into the shirt America left the last time he had visited. It smelled just like him, warm and comforting. The Englishman hoped the scent would never leave the fabric, because he did not know what to do if it did. It was just so... America. He would never admit it, though. That git was full of himself already, no need to make it worse!

'Delusional brain'. America's description echoed in his head just before he was about to close his eyes, making England wonder if his boyfriend was right. Perhaps he was delusional? It would explain quite a lot, actually.

Suddenly he remembered he had forgotten to call America and say goodnight despite that he promised to, so he once again pulled up his cell and waited for the call to be directed to voicemail.

"Hello, love... I forgot to call earlier, forgive me. Goodnight, I love you."

With that done he sighed in content, allowing himself to relax, drifting into sleep.

One week later, the snow was covering his garden completely. He did not mind that much, England rather loved seeing the way the snow transformed the landscape. Today he did not enjoy it that much, though.

"Why on earth did you have to listen to your bloody boss, America?" Muttering to himself, he tapped his fingers against the kitchen counter as if that would make the water he was preparing for tea boil faster, completely ignoring the sight in front of him.

He knew that his boyfriend had to go on that mission, and he knew that it would be a while until he was back but he was tired of waiting. He missed the feel of strong American arms wrapping around his waist, the way it felt to be kissed by lips that tasted a little coffee, a little salt and something that was purely Alfred, a part of him that had nothing to do with his country.

Another message had been added to America's voicemail just moments ago, just because England longed to hear his voice, the cheerful greeting that came with him being redirected,

"Am I not answering? Hahaha! Then I am doing something heroic and will call you up later! And if this is Iggy calling, then I love you. Stop sending kinky messages to my phone."

The last line never failed to make the Brit smirk; remembering how flustered America had been when he called back after England had left a very intimate message, informing him that his secretary always checked his voicemail. She had apparently offered quite a big amount of money to get it on film.

Even now the memory made England's expression soften. America had promised to always be with him, and he knew that when the tall male came back they would watch the snow fall together; no matter how cheesy it sounded. He never expected to fall so hard for his former charge, never expected them to end up as close as they did. A brief memory flash of a night long ago made him blush, remembering skin on skin, tongues touching and the overwhelming hunger they felt for each other. America belonged to England, and England belonged to America, no matter how much he denied it. No one else made his heart jump the way it did, no one else invoke that need to possess and mark; he had never wanted anyone as close as he wanted America. Their relation truly was special.

His American hero would always come back to him. The ring on his left hand was proof enough.

No matter where he was stationed.

So he called up again, leaving another cheerful message. "Alfred? This is Arthur, as you may know. I just called to tell you that the sweater you asked me to knit is done now, and it's waiting for you. I also bought coffee, and made some scones. I know you do not like them, but I do. So just shut up. I hope you are thinking about me, and that you return as quickly as you can. I know you will want to be back before the snow melts. I love you."

His tea was ready by now, and he smiled.

In North America…

Canada grasped Prussia's hand, the cold wind making his hair tangle. He really should have cut it long ago; He just hadn't had the time.

"When will we tell him...?"

Prussia squeezed his hand, looking at the newly set grave in front of him, America's plate of identification lying on the bare ground. Soon enough it would be covered in snow.

"I don't know, birdie. I really don't know."

A/N:

This is the first fic I've finished in YEARS. I hate having a writer's block and low confidence. But, meh. This is dedicated to my own personal America (Who is too much like him for it to be healthy. Love you.) and my awesome Hungary, who always listens to my bitter complaints about said American and everything else (She also believes she's a wig). Haha, I love you both. 3 Review if you find it good enough, and constrictive criticism is very appreciated if it is NICE. English is not my primary language, so feel free to verbally (but still nicely!) slap my errors in the face because I want to improve.

Merry Christmas, everyone! 3

Ps. Anyone who can guess what song I happened to come across when I wrote this? Ds.


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